


to hold at bay

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Phobias, Prinxiety - Freeform, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 00:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19936933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Virgil has always been scared of storms.





	to hold at bay

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally catharsis after yesterday's terrifying thunderstorm

Lightning flashes and thunder cracks outside the mind palace, making Virgil feel more and more uneasy. Among the Dark Sides, it is no secret that he is terrified of thunderstorms and Deceit would often soothe him out of a panic attack by reading to him or making him do his breathing exercises or listening to music with him.

But he doesn't live there anymore, he has no hope of depending on a side he's scorned (no matter how panicky he felt while doing it), and the others have no clue that he's afraid of thunderstorms. Not even his- well, he _wants_ Roman to be his boyfriend.

It's a silly fear, anyway, he tells himself, crammed into a corner of his room, headphones jammed in his ears and MCR turned up as high as it would go. Despite this, he could still hear the storm raging. He always could. 

One of the worst things about the mind palace, Virgil thinks, is that the weather outside reflects what's actually going on wherever Thomas is. Apparently Thomas is tap-dancing his way through hurricane central, he thinks with a scowl, pulling the hood of his favorite hoodie up. It smells like home now, like Patton's baking and Roman's cologne and Logan's old books, and Virgil breathes in the scent with a faint sigh of relief.

A knock sounds on the door, almost blending in with the chaos of the storm, and Virgil freezes. Who could be knocking at his door? Why? Would they worry if he doesn't answer? Can he pretend he's not here?

"Virgil?" Roman calls through the door. Equal measures of fear and relief flood Virgil's system, paralyzing him on the carpet. He's reached an accord with Princey now. Their jabs are purely lighthearted. He doesn't mock Virgil anymore or act like he's about to become a Dark Side again at any moment ( ~~although are they really _that_ bad?~~).

"What is it?" He croaks. He can feel his lungs working too hard, too fast, like an over-strained bellows, and darkness crowds the edges of his vision.

"Patton made storm cookies," Roman says. "He wants to know if you'd like any."

"I-" But Virgil can't get anything else resembling words past the tight pinhole of his throat, not when so much of his attention is focused on the war he's fighting (and losing) with his lungs, and the tumult of the storm outside his window.

"Virgil?" Roman asks, concern thick in his voice, but he sounds underwater at this point, the words wavering and distorted. Virgil crumples, arms wrapped tightly around himself, and it takes several long, painful moments to realize that Roman has come into the room and now kneels in front of him.

"Breathe with me, Virgil, come on, it's all right, you can do this, remember how to do your breathing," Roman is saying over and over and Virgil's face blooms crimson as he listens, his breathing slowly calming down. Eventually, he's spent. Bone-deep shame writhes in his stomach every time he attempts to look up at Roman, so he doesn't even bother.

"So what was that all about?" Roman asks quietly. "It couldn't be the cookies...could it?" Virgil shakes his head. No, not the cookies. The cookies sound nice, actually. Like maybe they'd distract him from the storm.

"What, then?" Roman gently persists, and Virgil takes a deep breath. Maybe- maybe he _should_ confide in Roman, if nothing else. Maybe-

"I'm scared of thunderstorms," he blurts out, eyes tightly squeezed shut. A moment of tense silence meets his declaration, enough for the crushing weight of disappointment to begin pressing him into the floor, before Roman responds.

"Then I will fight them for you!" He declares grandly, waving one arm. It nearly hits Virgil in the nose. "Nothing so much as a cloud will dare show its face once I am done!"

"I don't think you can fight a storm, Roman," Virgil says, but he's already fighting back laughter. 

"Sure I can," he says. "In the imagination, I could fight a dozen storms."

"I uh, rather you didn't," Virgil mutters, staring down at his feet, currently adorned in Nightmare Before Christmas socks (a present from Patton).

"Then I'll just stay here with you," Roman says, his voice going all soft and gentle again, and the look in his eyes making Virgil's face grow warm. "Would you like that, My Chemical Imbalance?"

"Always, Princey," Virgil says. As he rests his head on Roman's shoulder, feeling the solid, comforting weight of the prince beside him, he can scarcely hear the storm outside.


End file.
